Introducing . . . my much maligned little girl


Last Friday I posted a blog about how difficult and demanding my girl is.
I don’t mind admitting that in my weaker moments I want to give her away.
Ok, ok not so much give her away, but I do want to run away. Far far away.
Thankfully those weaker moments are very few and far between and usually coincide with me being tired or emotional. Or sober. (Kidding!)

The response from other mums was fantastic – let’s face it, when you’re at the coal face of toddlerhood and you have a three-year-old screaming at you from what feels like dawn till dusk, a whole bunch of mums telling you they’ve been there too is rather comforting.

We’ve all been there at the worst of it:
Picked up the wrong cuddly toy? Meltdown.
Picked out the wrong pair of socks to wear today? Meltdown.
Said her name in a manner she doesn’t approve of? Meltdown.

But I bet each and every one of those mums has that moment when they look at this child that is making them turn to drink/chocolate/blogging and thinks ‘d’you know what, despite everything – yes even despite wiping tears and snot up my work suit this morning and screaming for 10 full minutes because I poured the milk on the Cheerios the wrong way – despite all of that she is gorgeous. GORGEOUS’.

And so I feel I have given a very one-sided picture of my beautiful little girl and I want to set the record straight.

My little girl with the boy haircut and the big, brown eyes, is gorgeous.


  • She has such an infectious all-encompassing love of life. Wow Daisies! Clouds! (You have no idea how much time she can take up talking about the wonder of clouds) that I sometimes feel ashamed I have grown up and become so jaded.When did running through long grass stop being laugh-out-loud fun? When did I stop thinking hide and seek was hilarious?
  • She makes my heart swell – I mean actually swell – when she climbs as far as she can in to my lap while we’re reading We’re Going On A Bear Hunt because she knows the big, brown bear is coming.
  • Her face is so amazingly expressive.
  • She adds a little cock of the head and raises her eyebrows and is utterly irresistible. Just ask her daddy. He is total putty in her hands.
  • She adores her older brother. I mean really adores him. I find them some mornings sat together in Daniel’s bed reading. He’s telling her a story, while she hangs on his every word.
  • I love the way she greets me every afternoon when I pick her up from nursery, like I’m the most important person in the whole world. She runs from across the room with her arms in the air and shouts out with unabandon joy “mummy!” like the best thing that could ever happen to her at that moment is for her mummy to show up.
  • And then I pick her up and she squeezes so so tight and while I’m talking to the staff she straightens my collar and plays with my hair and all the whole she’s gazing at me with absolute love. Then when we’re done, she proudly tells everyone: “this is my mummy!”
  • I love the way she can lift my spirits at the end of the day by trying to sing along to Red Hot Chilli Peppers in the back of the car, while head banging her little head to the beat.
  • I love the way she runs around the house naked all wild and free and deleriously happy, with just her pink Miffy baseball cap on.
  • And the way she jumps on our bed with the biggest grin on her face like it’s the most fun thing in the whole world. Ever. And she’s been to Legoland so she has something to compare it to.
  • I love the way she mothers Baby, her plastic baby doll, wrapping her arms around her as they watch the telly together or tenderly putting a cold compress on her head after she’s whacked it on the door frame as they walked past.
  • I love that she is difficult and unique and has made me try really really hard to be a better mother. So what if I can’t remember the last time I actually got to go to the toilet on my own or slept a whole night through? I get to witness you growing, learning and embracing life and that’s reward enough for me.
  • Mia, you are such a difficult, complex child and I am so very proud to be your mother. And through all the frustration, the shouting and the pleading, you should know that your daddy and I think you are the greatest little girl in the whole wide world and we wouldn’t change you for anything.
    Well, maybe the demonic screaming bit . . .
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